


The Redemption of James Buchanan Barnes

by SnowyDesolation



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, post-ws
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:03:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyDesolation/pseuds/SnowyDesolation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping HYDRA, James Buchanan Barnes begins his path to redemption.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>{Don't have a good summary, yet - summaries are my enemies - but basically it's the life of Bucky, post-ws, with a ton of ups and downs, including the satisfaction of killing HYDRA agents, meeting unlikely allies, falling in love, getting hurt ~ there'll be a few love triangles. Or, love Triforce, rather.}<br/>{Will also update the tags/summary as I update the chapters.}</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Redemption of James Buchanan Barnes

After escaping HYDRA, The Winter Soldier had, predictably, attempted to find out more about who he apparently was...  _before_ HYDRA. The Smithsonian, SSR's Hall of Valor, museums, and libraries were some places he visited, trying to fill in those missing blanks, and catch up on history - not just what he had missed from and since his "old life," but of all history.

Due to how stressful dressing up in gloves and large sweaters, being in crowded places, and trying to fit in with society was, he only visited these places every few days, alternating between each place. On top of which, as much as he hoped that visiting all of the places would help, it wasn't having any effect on him; seeing his name on a wall, or seeing a photo of himself on a memorial helped him about as much as knowing who Anne Frank was. It was slightly interesting, but useless, and he didn't remember anything. Still... he didn't stop visiting, because even if there was a chance that something would eventually help, no matter how little it may be, he'd take that chance. Being able to remember who he was, was all he wanted.

On one average Wednesday afternoon, after visiting the SSR's Hall of Valor, the Soldier headed to the Smithsonian, and did what he always did: he stared at the monument dedicated to Bucky Barnes. Hours passed, and he remained there, standing in front of the monument, reading it over and over until he had it memorized, staring at the photo of him until it was burned in his mind.

Parents, children, teachers, 'fangirls', security - he saw countless people walk past him, or stand by him only for a few moments to read over the monument, before continuing on, some even taking a photo of - and fewer with - it.

Eventually, someone stood beside him that stayed for much longer than he thought normal. They were just out of his line of sight, but he assumed (or rather, worried) that it might be security, wanting him to leave. Slightly turning his head, and moving the side of his hoodie so that he could see, he glanced at the figure beside him. It was a man, dressed in jeans, a sweater, and a ball cap. It was just nobody. With a small sigh, he brought his attention back to the monument, just staring at the photo of himself. It seemed like he just couldn't stare at it long enough. It was... unbelievable.

"Tragic, isn't it?" the man spoke.

The Soldier froze - his eyes widened, and he could almost feel his heart stop for a second, as he filled with anxiety. A few brief moments later, after regaining control over his frozen body, he turned to face the man, and slightly crouched down to see under his hat. "S... Steve?"

"...Buck?" the man - Steve - replied in disbelief, recognizing his voice.

The Soldier just stared, not responding. What was he supposed to say? 'Nice to see you?' That wasn't exactly true, or entirely appropriate for however they stood. This was the exact sort of conversation that he didn't know how to begin, or partake in.

"Why are you-? I mean, how did you-?" Steve began, struggling to word what he wanted to say.

"I'm gonna go," the man once known as Bucky quickly stated, wanting to avoid the questions, and the talking in general. Without giving a chance for any objection or any goodbye, he turned, and began heading for the exit.

"Bucky, wait," Steve called after him, grabbing hold of his arm to stop him.

Hissing at the contact, the brunette jerked his arm away, " _what_?!"

"I'm sorry," the blonde quickly apologized, holding his hands up to signalize that he meant no harm. "Sorry. I just... Will you get a coffee with me? I know you must have a lot of questions, and I can help you out more than staring at that photo will, I promise. Please don't run away. Now that I've found you... I can't just let you walk out of here."

"I don't..." he began, trailing off, not really knowing how to say no. It did seem like the only way he could get answers was to talk to Steve... but, he wasn't ready to talk to him, he needed to figure things out, first; he needed more time. Besides, he didn't even know if he even  _liked_  coffee. That wasn't one of the things he had tried, yet; he didn't know how to make it, and he was too anxious to go into an actual café - or some other coffee place. Social interactions were  _not_  his thing.

"Come on, we won't get any garbage like Starbucks - we can go to a café and sit and talk in privacy... Give it a chance, please?"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, the Soldier sharply nodded once. "Fine," he caved, leading the way out to the exit. It didn't seem like Steve was going to easily take no for an answer, and, besides, just a chance wouldn't hurt, right? If anything went wrong or he wanted to leave, he could.

Steve stood where he was, watching Bucky walk away; he was surprised, he had honestly not expected to get a 'yes'... but he was glad that's what he got, and he didn't waste any time in catching up.

Once they were outside of the building, the Soldier paused, letting Steve go on ahead to lead the way to the café. It wasn't far; there was a café just around the corner - though, as short of a walk as it was, it felt a lot longer... it was quiet, and the silence felt awkward, for the both of them.

At the café, Steve pulled out his wallet, and set it on the counter, as he looked up at the menu on the wall. "Get whatever you want - it's on me," he informed his friend.

Swiftly and quickly, the Soldier grabbed Steve's wallet, shoving it in his back pocket. "It's on  _me_. I'm the one with the questions." It was logical, enough. It was also the least he could do after everything he had done - even if it was done due to brainwashing and manipulation. That, and he didn't need Steve's help, or his charity, and he wanted to prove that he wasn't completely lost, and could get by on his own – and he wanted to get that out in the open first. Even if he was struggling immensely... Steve didn't need to know that. It would only be a few dollars. It wasn't like he couldn't easily steal that much, again, later.

"... Alright," Steve accepted, going along with it, if that was what his friend wanted to do. "I'll just have a coffee," he told the barista.

"Make that two," the Soldier stated.

Nodding, the barista turned to make the coffees. Once they were both made, she set the mugs down on the counter, "that comes to three fifty."

The Soldier pulled out a five dollar bill, handing it to her. He accepted the one dollar bill in change, but refused the other fifty cents. "Keep it." Aside from committing a small act of kindness that he very much owed, he hated having change - it made so much noise in his pockets. Even if he didn't exactly need the skills of a spy, anymore... some habits die hard, and he still preferred to be unheard and unseen.

"That was nice," Steve began, trying to make light conversation as he poured milk in his coffee.

"I just hate change," he grumbled in response. Looking around the café, the most secluded part was just up a couple of steps, in the corner of the building. There were quite a few empty tables around the one table he had his eye on, which was as much privacy as they could get in a café, so he headed over to it, pulling Steve's wallet out of his pocket, and setting it on the table, before sitting down.

Following behind him, Steve sat down opposite from Bucky, sliding his wallet back in his pants. "So... anything specific you want to know?" Steve asked, before taking a sip of the coffee. Naturally, there were a lot of things he wanted to ask, and it was obvious to James, as well. However, Steve had made it clear that their time was to be spent however Bucky wanted, and he wasn't about to go back on his word. Not with his best friend. Not after finally finding and getting a chance with him.

Staring at the coffee mug the Soldier had his metal hand wrapped around, he remained silent; thinking. What did he want to know? He finally had the opportunity to ask anything he wanted to know, by the person that apparently had known him better then anyone else, and he didn't know what to ask. The possibilities were endless, but none were coming to mind.

There was always the cliche option, 'who am I?' but that would be useless; there would be too much to cover, and too many places start. He could ask something simple, if he liked coffee - and if he did, how he liked it, or his birth date, his favourite colour, those types of things, but simple things weren't who he was; those weren't things that defined him, they were things that could change; things that he could easily find out for himself. Things he'd really like to know, such as what he thought about, how he felt about certain things, people, and events, or what he did when he was alone, they were things that Steve couldn't answer - they were things that he'd never know, because they were all inside his own mind that were never shared, but those things, the things he thought about, the way he felt about things, they _did_ define him... but they were what no one could answer.

So, what did he want to know? Everything. Where did he want to start? Anywhere. Everywhere. It was too difficult of a question. He had a hundred questions soaring through his mind, but none of them seemed important or relevant enough to ask.

"Here," Steve murmured, pulling his wallet back out. Looking through his different cards and photos, he found what he was looking for, and wordlessly handed it to his friend.

The Soldier took it, and stared at it. It was... him? And, beside him was... "is that...  _you_?" he questioned, looking back and fourth between Steve, and the photo.

Steve nodded, "yeah."

"So, you really used to be some... scrawny little punk?" he questioned. He had seen other photos of Steve looking so tiny at the museums and a few history books, but he could hardly believe it, it was just too weird. There was such a huge difference between the Steve in the photo, and the Steve sitting across from him. How was that kind of transformation even possible?

Steve smiled a big, warm smile, and nodded, "yeah... I did."

"What... What happened to you?"

"I joined the war."

"Are you still sick?" was his next question. He was vaguely aware of Steve's health conditions, both because of the Smithsonian, and it was just another of things things he somehow knew... but in truth, he didn't really care; he never went there to learn about Steve, he went there to learn of himself. Now, well, he couldn't say that he suddenly cared, and it wasn't that he wanted the info to ever use it to his advantage... he was just, well, curious.

"You remember that?" Steve asked, his face lighting up.

The Soldier tore his gaze away from him as he shook his head, "it was at the Smithsonian."

"Right," Steve muttered, trying not to sound or look as disappointed as he was. "No, the serum got rid of those issues," he answered. "I'm as healthy as I could possibly be."

The serum... he had heard talk of that, when he was with HYDRA. Not Steve's serum - but his own, and other serums that HYDRA was trying to make. Looking back up at Steve, he asked "why did you take it?"

"I wanted to fight in the war. It was only right - everyone else was laying down their lives for their country, I had no right to do anything less. ...That," he continued, "and I couldn't stand the thought of losing you. You were all I had."

Slowly nodding, the Soldier turned his attention to his coffee, and took a sip, discovering that it wasn't the greatest thing he'd ever had - though, it wasn't the worst, either, and he didn't hate it enough not to drink it.

"Do you remember... anything?" Steve cautiously asked, staring at his own coffee.

Of course he did... if he were answering honestly. The bits and pieces of memories or facts that he knew weren't enough to put together to have anything that made sense, though; he didn't remember _enough_ , and he didn't want to give Steve any false hope by saying yes. "Not really," he finally murmured.

Steve's face fell, though he tried to keep a strong appearance, for Bucky's sake. "That's okay... we'll get there."

One of the things the Soldier did clearly remember was falling... he didn't really know what he fell from, or how, and that was something that he'd like to know. It was said that people show who they really are in their final moments, and if he knew how he 'died,' why it happened... it might help him know the kind of man he used to be. Right? ... Maybe. It was probably stupid, but at this point, anything was worth a shot. "How did I die? Or - how did I _almost_ die?"

That was a touchy subject; one Steve didn't talk about since... well, since he spoke to Peggy about it in that bar back in 1943. "I, uh... well, we were on a train, trying to take down HYDRA. We got separated, you were out of ammo, and I was taking care of this robot. I thought I had killed it, and I turned my back on it to throw you my gun and help you take out a guy you were stuck in the car with. The robot got up, and came out and attacked from behind, and..." he trailed off, staring down at his fumbling thumbs.

"And?" the Soldier pushed.

"You grabbed my shield. You tried to defend us, to be my hero, like you were my whole life, but, the blast it emitted was too strong, and it blew a hole in the side of the train, throwing you out with it. I - I'm sorry," he immediately began to apologize, speaking almost too quickly to understand, "I should have gone after you while you could hold on, but I took out the robot, and before I could get to you, before I could grab your hand, the railing you were holding onto, it broke, and..." he trailed off, knowing that the rest didn't need to be said.

Taking in the information, the Soldier was silent, staring down at the table. As he processed it all, a frown began growing on his brows. "You make that sound like... like you had a choice; like you  _chose_ to make me wait."

"If I could go back to that day, I would... I'd do  _everything_  differently. I'd change what happened, so that you could have lived... I wouldn't have just assumed I defeated the robot - I would have checked, and I wouldn't have let my guard down as soon as the other guy was down, I... I should have tried to find you, afterwards. I'm so sorry, Bucky."

The Soldier's grip on his mug began to tighten, until it shattered in his grasp, causing coffee and the glass to explode everywhere - including on his jeans, but he couldn't be bothered to care. "You  _let_  me die?" he growled. "You  _chose_   _not_  to  _save me_? You didn't even _look_ for me?! Everything that happened to me, happened because you  _let_  it?!"

Hearing the way that Bucky had said that, made it sound completely different than how Steve intended it to sound, and he realized that he had made a huge mistake - he had blamed himself while telling Bucky how he died, and there was nothing he would be able to do to change the way he had told that, the way he made Bucky think it happened. It was worse that Bucky didn't have any memories of him, and didn't know him enough to know that Steve was just blaming himself. "That's not - that's not what I meant," Steve began to explain. "I mean,  _of course_  I tried to save you-"

"When it was convenient to you," he snarled, standing up.

"Buck-"

"There is  _no_  such thing as this 'Buck'," he nearly yelled, not giving a damn about who could hear, and how many eyes were drawn to their table. "I promise you that I will _never_  forgive you. This 'Bucky' that you knew, and loved, he will never come back to you, because you  _let_  him  _die_... and that's where he'll remain,  _forever_.  _Dead_. Because of  _you_." With nothing more to say, he stormed out of the café, and began heading back to his cheap motel room, without looking back once.

It was then that he decided that he didn't want to hear about himself from stories from third parties, that were passed on. He needed  _more_  than that. He needed something from his past, something significant that meant something, something  _personal_  that would be of help to him- and he knew just where to get that... HYDRA. Their files. They had many bases scattered around the world, and he knew where some were - those he didn't know, he could locate from other bases. While he was at it, he could also take them all down, as revenge for what they had done to him.

They were his new mission.

The Winter Soldier was back... with one hell of a vengeance.


End file.
